Sticky Situation
by the infamou5 c0pyc4t
Summary: Rangiku has a fun, delightful, mischievous, sneaky, sensual way for Orihime to get the watermelon monster's juice off of her at the beach. (Male-Rape Warning, I guess?) MA


**Sticky Situation**

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Random Ichigo/Orihime PWP. Covered in the sticky juice of the watermelon Hollows, Orihime wants to get cleaned up. Rangiku, of course, has a fun way of doing just that…

Tags: Bondage/Blindfold, Fetish (cfnm, titfuck), Oral, Parody (Ep. 228), Voyeurism

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Orihime was happy that there was no danger from Hollows, that the watermelon monsters were mostly-harmless novelties courtesy of the Research and Development Bureau. Rangiku-san and the other women of the Shinigami Women's Association enjoyed the game along with Renji, Ikkaku, and Ichigo, smashing the towering fruits with fists and sticks. It had been a fun spectacle, but by the time the last beast fell, Orihime took a moment to look down at herself. Patches of red juice blemished her fine skin; the droplets that had fallen on her feet had already dried, making sand cling to the organic adhesive. The sun started to dry out the juice streaming down her body, and that was not a particularly comfortable feeling. Luckily, the beach was a fine means of cleansing herself, and she hastened to the tide.

"Orihime," chirped Rangiku, spotting the girl heading for the water. Orihime paused to look at the lieutenant waving at her. Watching with a pout, Rangiku spouted, "Where are you going in such a hurry? All the watermelon is over _here!_" She gestured to the huge chunks of fruit that Yachiru was wasting no time devouring; the others were a bit more hesitant about eating the spoils of watermelon monsters, even if Nemu was dutifully slicing and dicing to make the red insides more appetizing before handing them out.

Smiling a bit, Orihime waved timidly and said, "I want to wash the juice off first, Rangiku-san! I'll be there soon!" She brought her wrist up, sniffed and then sampled the juice coating her fair skin, and declared that it tasted wonderful.

Now Rangiku was somewhat of a slouch when it came to actual work, but when mischief could be found, her mind worked probably quicker than Kurotsuchi Mayuri's. If there was one thing she knew about young people taking a trip to the beach, it was all the naughty stuff that could be done and could be completely vindicated by the heat of the sun and excitement of a vacation.

Of course Rangiku was aware of Orihime's feelings for the certain, orange-haired substitute Shinigami. Why else would he be invited on a trip to the beach that was for the Shinigami Women's Association, and why else would Rangiku encourage Orihime to wear such a skimpy bikini when Orihime was fine picking out some less-flattering beach garb that she found adorable?

"_Oi_, Orihime! Come here! I've got a better idea!" When the unsuspecting ditz reversed her path and wandered curiously over to the lieutenant, Rangiku turned and put her fingertips to her smirking lips.

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Ichigo had not noticed Orihime's or Rangiku's absence. With all the commotion, it was hard to keep track of everyone, even if it was two of the bustiest babes at the beach. Renji and Ikkaku monopolized his attention anyway, egging him into swimming competitions, digging contests, and watermelon-eating races; the last challenge, Ichigo lost easily due to his apprehension of eating something that came from the eerie Research and Development Bureau. Renji excitedly declared his victory, though he hardly looked like a winner with cheeks bulging and a pale color in his face.

With everyone out on the beach, and the festivities calming down for the time being, Ichigo decided to head to the shack to cool down; if he went for a swim, it'd just turn into another competition with Renji and Ikkaku. Rather than announce where he was going, he found it more suitable just to slip away and let the others guess where he was instead of immediately rushing to him and disturbing his peace.

He was reasonably close to the shack when he felt a sharp prick on the bottom of his heel. At first, he thought he'd stepped on some hidden glass, but his sandals would've protected him from that. He was about to inspect the pain, but that was before an unstoppable drowsiness claimed him. Wobbling and away from the attention of the flamboyant crew closer to the water, he collapsed. And from beneath him and the very sand he once stood on, a head popped up.

Nemu, expressionless even after completing Rangiku's secret assignment, said, "Mission complete. Target acquired."

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"_Um_, I don't know if Kurosaki-kun will like this," mumbled the busty, redheaded teen. She was still sticky with watermelon juice – most abundant on the slopes of her bust – and had been waiting on Rangiku's suggestion to clean herself. However, she failed to see the method of cleaning up by standing in the back room of the shack, door locked and windows blocked, with Ichigo blindfolded and bound to a chair. Apparently, Nemu had hit him with a sedative to catch him this way. Blindfolding hid their faces, and to prevent voice-recognition, Nemu had installed a pair of sound-nullifying earplugs, eliminating even the sound of muffled noises, leaving him deaf.

"Go on, Orihime," Rangiku jeered insistently, nudging her teenage companion towards the captive recovering from the ambush. "Don't pass it up! This is a golden opportunity!" She winked mischievously, and added to her certainty a 'thumbs-up'.

Orihime shuffled in place, her limbs stiff as boards and heavy as lead. It was truly hard for her not to follow through with Rangiku's schemes – to her, they were oftentimes fun – but with Ichigo kidnapped and unconscious, she wasn't even sure what her enthusiastic coach was cheering her on for. "_Um…_" She fiddled in place, looking straight at Ichigo's hanging head. She giggled anxiously then, twisting her upper body to Rangiku and rubbing the back of her head. "I don't know what to do, Rangiku-san."

Most people would've found Orihime's naiveté irksome, but to one as mischievous as Rangiku, it made the payoff more fun. "You don't know?" mused the lieutenant. She pointed angularly at her own bosom that stretched the material of her bikini to its max. "You're all sticky there, aren't you? I'm sure Ichigo wouldn't mind helping out with that!"

Orihime flushed, imagined what Rangiku meant, and then looked coyly to the side. Surely the lieutenant didn't mean _that._ She cleared her throat. "_Um…_" Her gray eyes lifted as if gravity had intensified and her sights couldn't make it to Ichigo. But she managed, and there were the usual imagined sparkles drifting around Kurosaki-kun like a beckoning aura.

"C'mon, Inoue," Ichigo suddenly said, his voice so even and heavy with desire. Even with his eyes trapped underneath a blindfold, she could feel them piercing her soul. Her heart went **_LUB-DUB!_** and she felt like she could pass out. "Nothing would please me more than to serve you," Ichigo finished, his tongue peeking out just enough to lap sensually at the corner of his mouth, leading Orihime to imagine what he'd rather be licking.

"_O, Kurosaki-kun!_" Orihime squealed behind her hands, twisting left to right in a fit of girlish giggles.

Rangiku quirked an eyebrow and looked at the boy. Orihime was acting like he was giving her bedroom eyes, but all Rangiku saw was an orange-haired teen unconscious with an unattractive dollop of spit oozing out of his slack lips.

Well, whatever helped Orihime get out of her comfort zone, Rangiku reasoned with a shrug, and then moved to make Orihime make her move. "He's waiting for you~" Rangiku hummed in her ear like the preverbal devil on the shoulder. Orihime stilled, her eyes wide and peering through the gap in her fingers. "Don't you want to…?" Rangiku nudged her with her elbow and chortled suggestively.

Orihime swallowed. "Well…" she began, and Rangiku knew right away that she was hooked. "Maybe… Kurosaki-kun wouldn't mind," she reasoned, as if her Orihime Vision had any semblance to reality.

"That's right!" cheered Rangiku a bit too loudly while pumping the air with her fist. "Let him have a taste, Orihime, and he'll melt!"

Orihime, though tentatively, straddled Ichigo's waist, apologizing to him and carefully situating herself so that the majority of her weight was balanced on the balls of her feet. Most women would've plopped down, and most men would've appreciated that to lustful effect; Orihime was just too self-conscious, and Ichigo was just too drugged. No fun would come with a sedated stallion!

With Orihime in place – carefully touching Ichigo in ways she'd only fantasized about and awkwardly complimenting the scent of his shampoo – Rangiku went to the woman standing at attention in the corner of the room. "He needs to wake up!" Spinning and groaning in frustration, she feared that the momentum of Orihime's courage would wane. "We can't miss this chance."

"Understood," and Nemu moved like a ninja for the kill. She was at Ichigo's back in an instant, left hand poised while the right held him steady. Before Orihime could even react – How long had Kurotsuchi-san been there?! – Nemu's precise hand jabbed a needle in and out of Ichigo's spine, a coating toxin negating her father's impervious narcotic.

And at once, as Nemu stole away to resume her post and receive Rangiku's second thumbs-up, Ichigo stirred awake. Sluggishly, he moaned and moved and picked up his head. It wasn't a moment later that he was fully alarmed, his limbs tensing in their bondage. "What the…?! _Argh!_" He tugged to no avail. "Where am I?! Who…"

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime shouted, grabbing onto Ichigo for support when he became more rambunctious. The previous image of him – a willing and eager participant of BDSM – hadn't reacted this way, though it was perfectly understandable that anyone _would_ freak out like this. "It… it's just me and Rangiku-san!"

Her hands went to remove his blindfold, but Rangiku's own went to prevent this. Aside from spoiling the fun, the last thing she needed was for Ichigo to go crying to her captain about this unsuitable behavior on her day off at the beach! "No, no, no," Rangiku scolded with a back-and-forth of her finger. She leaned in close to Orihime, oblivious to her breasts mashing up around Ichigo's head; Orihime's face faltered a bit to see Kurosaki-kun's head so intimate with Rangiku-san's boobs, and Ichigo's own reaction was a paling of his face and a steady, stammering stream of stuttering sounds. "The point is to have him guessing," Rangiku half-fibbed, keeping a serious face as Ichigo's frantically-turning head knocked her heavy breasts side to side. "He has to recognize your body. Do you think you can do that?"

Orihime bit her lip, quelling the urge to remind Rangiku that this whole venture was to get Ichigo to lick up all the spilled, dried juice over her cleavage. But Rangiku-san's idea did sound more – Orihime reddened modestly at the thought – romantic.

Determination flickered in her gray eyes. "I can do it," she affirmed.

"Go!" Rangiku cheered, giving the resounding _double_ 'thumbs-up'! She receded to give Orihime's bust room to tantalize Ichigo.

"_Um,_ I hope you don't mind, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime mewled before easing her breasts forward.

Ichigo still questioned the whys and the wherefores until two incredibly soft mounds were shoved against the bottom half of his face. Blindfolded he may have been, but Ichigo had been – involuntarily – close to breasts more often than ever before since becoming a Shinigami, and he recognized the perfume of a woman's chest even amidst the sweet aroma of watermelon. Instinctively, he pulled away, and Orihime thought for a moment that he'd been splashed in the face with watermelon juice himself from how red he'd turned. "Y-Yoruichi-san?!" he guessed haphazardly, probably from having had the aforementioned shove her assets at him in play many times before.

His guess made the enthusiastic, incorrigible Orihime slouch on him, her eyes wavering and shimmering with welling-up tears. "Kurosaki-kun," she blubbered. He was supposed to guess right away, and she'd take off his blindfold – or Rangiku-san, when Orihime proved herself too elated to do so – and let him adore her and her body's splendor.

Rangiku, however, dissuaded Orihime's sulk, reminding her that Ichigo was an idiot, especially with women. "Men get scared and blabber only what they know," she said like an expert. "How many times have _you_ shoved your valley at his face?"

This was true; the collisions she'd had with him were all head-on – literally! He wasn't given the chance to experience her – she flushed – softness yet. Perhaps – with all the women throwing their chests at his face, including Rangiku-san! – it was Orihime's turn to make the bid and leave her mark with Kurosaki-kun.

"Just… Just have a taste, Kurosaki-kun," she said like he could hear her, and then lifted one tit to his face. Ichigo's nose brushed against her flesh, and again, he was repelled, demanding that he be freed. Her confidence wavered from his stubbornness, but Rangiku continued to motivate her. Nothing would ever get done if these two kids were left to their own devices! And so, Orihime resolved to quell Ichigo herself! Resolute determination and all!

"_MMPH!_" Ichigo, with no discernable features of his own showing, had never seemed more uncomfortable than when Orihime shoved her boob right at his face. The aim had been just about perfect; if he had only kept his mouth opened for a moment longer, she'd have jammed her nipple – trapped beneath her bikini still – right into his mouth. She waited then, her heartbeat resonating within her breast. _Just taste, Kurosaki-kun,_ she prayed anxiously. _Just taste!_

The smell was more overpowering now than before, and Ichigo started to have doubt that it was in fact Yoruichi-san pressed against his face. This scent was… sweeter. Yoruichi somehow smelled of earthy tones like pine or cherry blossom, not the fruitiness – aside from the blatant watermelon – of whomever _this_ was. Certainly not Rukia – for a number of obvious reasons – and thankfully not Yachiru! Using the process of elimination – which was considerably difficult when a shielded nub amongst a supple globe poked at his lips – Ichigo was rather afraid to speak the name. What if he was wrong? It would be humiliating! She wouldn't… It couldn't possibly… The scent was luring, though, influencing his impending actions like instinct alone. His heart hammered in his chest. Should he have a taste of the beckoning sweetness?

Orihime felt her arm tiring somewhat. Her back may be used to the weight, but there was no denying the heaviness of her bust, particularly when she had no support; the bikini accentuated the features of them, but it did nothing to share the burden. "Rangiku-san," she started woefully, "I don't think…"

Grand providence and timing; Ichigo's tongue – after he'd muttered something that might have been some prideful reluctance – washed out and scrubbed a visible patch of monster blood/watermelon juice. Orihime's skin was atingle from the sensation, and her eyes almost couldn't believe it! Kurosaki-kun was… _Kurosaki-kun was…!_

"Licking me," she gasped out loud, her awed mouth switching into a smile as her orange-haired crush boldly continued on the warpath, leading with a strong, adventurous tongue, collecting every trace of watermelon it could find.

All at once, those feelings that she had late at night, when she was alone and allowed to fantasize to the fullest, flooded her body and spilled to her core. Her thighs quivered on top of Ichigo, and she felt so embarrassed to squeal and convulse so much; all on top of Kurosaki-kun, all in view of Rangiku-san and Kurotsuchi-san! Yet she could not control herself! His tongue, leaving hot, wet trails on her skin… her _chest!_

"_I'm not a pervert, Kurosaki-kun!_" she confessed as she came, jamming her crotch against his lap, heedlessly smothering his head between her tits. "_I'm not!_" The flood of essence that soaked her bottoms as well as Ichigo's begged to differ. Maybe she wasn't some skeevy lecher like Chizuru – Tatsuki's words, not Orihime's – but her body was wonderfully responsive to the stimulus of sex. Rangaku could almost applaud her gift.

Only Ichigo was in the dark of the reason for the frantic convulsions on the person above him. His open shirt was slipping, his bare chest shoved up against the mystery woman's body. Whatever clothing she wore, it hardly covered her at all. From what he could decipher, now more than ever as he was squeezed between her ample bosoms; he felt the strap at his chin.

What was going to happen now, though? The woman was squeezing his skull as if intending to crush it; being smothered in between such fine, large tits probably wouldn't seem so bad… at least in Kon's view. But it was Beach Day! Who wanted to die on Beach Day?!

Ichigo inhaled deeply and instinctively when the hug slackened and he was able to withdraw.

Orihime was glad that Ichigo was still blindfolded while she recovered. Her face was remarkably flushed from the orgasm, and in the embrace, her teeny top had slipped free from her left nipple, the pink protrusion taut and sensitive. Seeing her exposure, Orihime hurried to hide it, telling the blindfolded and deaf boy not to look! How embarrassing, she squealed, touching her hot cheeks afterwards and spinning side-to-side.

Shakily, Orihime dismounted, her jelly legs twitching as she put them underneath her. Safe from falling on Ichigo, she allowed them to give out and sank to the floor, knees bending inward in the modest posture. Her hands splayed out on the floor in front of her, helping to keep and balance her weight. She gained her senses slowly as she panted, locks of her auburn hair falling in front of her face. "S-sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she whispered for no reason in particular. Whatever longing she'd felt when seeing Ichigo sporting his body on the beach, she felt sated, content to lock away the sparkly image for another night's use.

But… "You're not done." Rangiku had sneaked behind her with the stealth of a cat, her large jugs against Orihime's back so that she could point to Ichigo's groin, where there stood a very prominent mast underneath his swim trunks. Orihime, although being somewhat ditzy, wasn't fooled long by what it was. The ideas that it might be a stick he found in the sand or a raccoon that he was keeping warm – for whatever reason – did not take her. That was… That was…!

"Kurosaki-kun's…!" Orihime's jaw dropped, her eyes captivated. More and more ideas began to manifest, less and less looney, more and more adult.

"I don't think you can leave him like that," Rangiku cooed in her ear. Her finger pointed with a playful twirl. "It'd be mean, don't you think?"

"_Uh…_" Orihime gestated. She'd climaxed on Ichigo's lap, but somehow, that felt more dignified than if she'd been exposed. Would Kurosaki-kun feel alright if she tried to 'aid' him? "Would it be alright?" she asked her worries aloud.

"Of course," Rangiku immediately pressed. "You caused it! It's only right that you take care of it!"

Orihime's lips pursed and shifted. What Rangiku had just said was very significant to her. "I… caused it?" Try as she might – though awkwardly and at most times subtly – she never got much reaction from the dense/closed-off boy of her affections. Yet seeing proof that her 'labors' had brought him to attention made her bosom swell with excitement and even pride. "I suppose," she began with very-feigned modesty, "if, if I caused it…"

"That's right! A real woman stands up for her obligation!" Rangiku encouraged, though she was a pure hypocrite to her own words. "And just look at how much he wants you!" Rangiku's brazen finger reached for the rim of Ichigo's waistband. A tug here, a nudge there, and Orihime's bashfully lustful eyes caught the **_ADORABLE!_** head of Kurosaki-kun's **_THING!_** Rangiku was not exaggerating at how pressed Ichigo was for attention, though his mouth hastily blurted out protests to reinforce his modesty; his leaking tip was already making a mushy puddle just underneath his navel, more and more easing out of him with each outstanding throb of unattended arousal.

"It… it's really big," Orihime couldn't help but observe. She'd seen pictures, of course; one didn't go through high school as one of the top scoring girls without thorough studies in every subject! But aside from ones that she had embarrassedly been shown when Mahana showed her a dirty magazine (girls' edition), Ichigo was larger that what she had seen before. Length up to a probable seven inches, substantial in girth, his member seemed stifled – perhaps 'choked' would be a more appropriate word when Orihime briefly imagined a face on the swollen head – between his pelvis and the tight drawstring of his trunks.

Rangiku persisted to aid her perverted protégé's prognosis. "That's right! And it's up to you to make it"—She held her fingers apart for visual effect, closing the approximated seven-inch gap to a smaller three inches—"small again. How else can he have fun up there with this stubborn thing in the way?" She had grabbed Ichigo's cock, which made both him and Orihime shout in surprised protest; Orihime's, of course, was done out of jealousy.

If anyone should touch him there, her quietest and most-inner voice spoke, it should be her.

_Has Kuchiki-san…?_

The jealousy was forced away. No, even if Kurosaki-kun _was_ like _that_, and was like _that_ with Kuchiki-san, the fact was he was like _this_ with Orihime now! Under the trusted guidance of Rangiku-san no less! Nothing could go wrong!

Yet Rangiku-san seemed to think so when Orihime's hand, after great hesitance, caught Ichigo's length. Orihime drew back like the other woman had suddenly turned on a switch that caused the cock to electrify. When stutteringly asked what she had done wrong, Rangiku expressed her frustration by touching her head and moving it from side to side disapprovingly. When the example was made, her crystal-clear eyes shot open, her eyebrows furrowed, and she leaned in close to the younger girl like she would impart great wisdom. "You can't be so ordinary as to touch him like _that_." She held up her right hand for emphasis. "You want Ichigo to remember this as the best! You must invoke the charm of a woman, show what you've learned, use your greatest tool!"

Orihime's heart was aflutter and her eyes shone with inspiration at Rangiku's words. "What…? What have I learned?" She almost ended with 'Rangiku-_sensei_'.

Sitting back, the light of inspiration going out as immediately as her bright face went dim, she hoisted up her tits with a bland "Boob Buckets…"

…

"Oh, of course!" Orihime gasped while thumping the bottom of her fist into her open palm like the answer to an impossible puzzle miraculously was given to her. She swung to Ichigo's lap with a fist lifted to her chest and a determined, far-off look on her face. _I can do it!_

Easier said than done, for when the time came to crawl in between Ichigo's legs – a motion that made him flail for a bit until Nemu calmed him in a chokehold – Orihime was mystified. So his cock was supposed to go… She looked down at her cleavage… in there? Not at all what she'd learned from books, but her mentor knew her stuff!

"You don't even have to take your top off," Rangiku had told her excitedly before Orihime had taken up her current spot.

"If it's alright… Kurosaki-kun…" Her voice trailed off. And then she went to work, huffing as she lugged her heavy tits upon his thighs; Rangiku offered some help by angling the dick to penetrate the crevice from below. Carefully, she descended, and Ichigo's moan carried on long after he was comfortably seated between Orihime's supported breasts.

_It's slippery… Warm too._ Orihime enjoyed the warmth most. Kurosaki-kun's warmth… and the delicate throb that she guessed was in sync with his heartbeat. This alone… She could stay like this forever. But Rangiku advised not to keep him waiting too long; being vague and obvious at once, she cautioned that 'they' would explode if 'they' waited too long.

So Orihime began to wobble, forearms pressed at either side of her large tits to help the support of her bikini. Of course, modest Ichigo protested the act, but his protests melted and were lost amongst the rising tide of groans and grunts. His own pre-cum was the source of lubrication that only amplified the rapture of being handled between two jugs. "I'm a man," he growled to himself, tilting his head back and gritting his teeth. "I… I can't…! I _won't…!_ _Mmph!_" Tilting his head back proved to not be the smartest move; not when busty Nemu was holding him.

"You won't?" Nemu flatly asked as Ichigo's face sunk between her tits, the collar of her 'school' bathing suit sliding over his head. His shout was muffled within the fleshy confines, and all his floundering did was cause one of her brown-capped peaks to flop out of her unitard.

Orihime would be a bit on guard about the intimacy with Kurotsuchi-san, but her efforts were best saved heaving on Ichigo's dick. Soon, he'll feel much better! Soon, he'll be relieved! Orihime strove to meet those ends, her panting accompanied by lustful moans derived more from pleasurable fantasy than pleasurable touch.

Even with all the chaos happening in the dark, Ichigo couldn't pry his focus from the soft things jiggling up and down his cock. He felt hot air blow against the tip, and it wasn't a bad guess to suppose that whatever woman had kidnapped him had lent him her breasts for stimulation. A tit fuck… It was an act he condemned outwardly, but when surfing the internet late at night, he couldn't bring himself _not_ to look away from such videos.

_Who is it? Who is it?!_

Frantically, perversely even, his mind conjured names as well as images to put in front of him in place of the blindfold's darkness. Unohana-san's breasts… "_Ugn!_" His body began to tighten. Kotetsu-san's, bowing over him to compensate for her height, apologizing for having to do so. "_Ah!_" Nanao-san?! He didn't know that she padded her top for the trip, but if it was her… "_Ughn! Ahh!_" … no doubt Rangiku-san was 'lending' a hand.

Rangiku-san…

Those massive tits that almost ripped out of her skimpy top. Ichigo, of course, noticed. How could he not?! Were hers the breasts around his dick?! No, he decided with accompanying gasps of failing stamina. No, _hers_ would flood him, too heavy to simply wave up and down his cock. And if not Yoruichi-san – as he had previously deduced – could it possibly be who he had feared to guess…? Could it be…?!

"_Inoue!_"

"_Aha!_ Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's jubilant smile at being recognized was instantly filled with Ichigo's first, gooey discharge. Hot semen stung her taste buds – in a way she liked – and she instinctively recoiled as more jetted against her face. But the cock was caught in the front of her bikini, and unless she manually removed it, it was at an appropriate angle to finish splattering her with streamers, lassos, and ribbons of white seed. She closed an eye and turned her head; the right side of her face was a _mess_ by the time Ichigo's ejaculation lost its oomph, though he had more than enough in the chamber to make her chest a sticky delight.

Even when the jettisons had become nothing more than a weak trickle that dripped from his slit to her cleavage, Orihime stayed frozen. Was it possible for him to start up again? She thought moving might cause him to reassert himself, and from how winded he was, smothered still in between Nemu's tits, Orihime wanted him to get a reprieve of some kind.

"Wonderful, Orihime!" Rangiku swung her arms around the girl, oblivious to Ichigo's cum plastering on her cheek as she nuzzled with Orihime. "That was such a good show."

"_Eh-heh-heh…_" Orihime bowed her head, a modest girl in the midst of praise. "I…" She hesitated as if confessing a wrongdoing. Her voice lowered until she almost went unheard under Ichigo's heaving, "I swallowed some." A pause, and then a further confession. "I liked it."

"Of course you did!" Rangiku winked and wagged her finger; a dollop of Ichigo's cum caught and dangled on it. "Any girl _loves_ the taste of her man's cum! Now c'mon!" Rangiku leapt to her feet and pulled at Orihime's arm. Orihime stammered as she was pulled up, reluctantly… refusing, even, to be led out the door.

"But… _but I look like…!_" Her eyes swirled in humiliation. "_Kurosaki-kun's… All over me!_"

"Of course! Yoruichi and the others would love to see that you finally did it!" Laughing merrily while Orihime wailed, Rangiku tugged her out onto the beach to show off her sticky badge of honor!

Nemu, impassive as ever, looked after them. "They left," she observed to no one in particular.

"_How long are you going to keep me here, dammit?!_" Ichigo screamed between her tits.

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End file.
